


Small Insecurities

by rainingover



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Journalists with a negative opinion of Yuri Pilsetsky, M/M, News Media, Post-Canon, Pre Beijing 2022, Social Media, influence of the media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9423191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingover/pseuds/rainingover
Summary: Neither Yuri nor Otabek have a google alert set up for their names.Luckily, Victor has that covered for both of them.





	

 

Yuri is lying in his favourite place when he receives the message; legs splayed out over the armrest of Otabek’s worn out couch, his head in Otabek’s lap, Otabek’s nails scratching gently over his head.

The message is a link to an article on some gossipy website that masquerades as a serious sporting publication, sent by Victor with a laughing emoji to a group chat that Yuri does not remember agreeing to be a part of. He opens the link, disinterested until he sees the title.

 

 **Sports Most Unlikely Friendships:** **_With the Beijing Winter Olympics only two months away, we list the six most unlikely friendships to have blossomed between Olympic athletes._**

 

Otabek Altin and Yuri Pilsetsky stand at number three. Of course, Yuri thinks, as he swipes his finger across the screen to read further, why else would Victor be laughing if not at them. Yuri scowls, but he reads their section anyway.

Once he’s done, he scrolls back to the top of the article and scoffs loudly, mainly for Otabek’s benefit. “Who the fuck writes this stuff?"

"Writes what?" Otabek asks. Yuri can tell he's only humouring him in his response, that he doesn't really care. His eyes are closed but his fingers are still moving, combing through Yuri's hair slowly, just the way Yuri likes. Afternoons like this are their greatest luxury. 

"The article Victor just messaged us both. Apparently it’s surprising that we tolerate each other’s company. Well, that you tolerate _mine_ , anyway." He lets out a huff of annoyance to punctuate his feeings on the matter.

Yuri doesn't even know why he actually _read_ the article. He hates reading about himself; even when it's about how good he is. And whilst this article mentions his impressive run of gold medals and his undeniable talent, it also mentions his temper, and his icy glare, and the fact that apparently he's _prickly_ off the ice. Whatever that fucking means.

"Victor has my number?" Otabek says, his mouth curling into the smallest of smiles. He knows Victor has his number. _Of course_ Victor has his number; he's complained enough times that Yuri ignores his calls, has ensured he has back up in the form of his own boyfriend to make sure Yuri sends him regular updates about his preparations for the Olympics.

Yuri pulls his most petulant of faces; eyebrows pulled in together, lips pursed. " _Beka_."

"I'll read it later," Otabek grins down at him. "When your head isn't in my lap."

It seems like a reasonable compromise to Yuri.

\--

 

 _Whilst the pair use social media less than some of their counterparts (Thailand’s ace Philchit_ _Chulanont_ _has become almost synonymous with the social media app Instagram over the last few years), they are often snapped hanging out in Altin’s hometown of Almaty during offseason and, to fans delight, tag each other in innocuous posts on their own accounts every so often._

 

\--

Yuri can't stop thinking about the stupid article and all he wants is to hear Otabek agree that’s stupid too, but even though his head has been nowhere near Otabek's lap for three hours, Victor's message still remains unopened on his phone. Not that Yuri has been checking.

Yuri unzips his jacket and throws it over the back of Otabek's couch when they get back to his apartment from dinner. Says, “You haven’t read about us in that dumb list yet.”

Otabek picks up the jacket as if by second nature, hangs it on a hook behind the door and then hangs his own battered leather jacket on top. “Not yet. But I will, if it's important to you."

Yuri pulls a face.  "It's not important at all," he replies, because it really _shouldn’t_ be and, honestly, he isn’t even totally sure why it’s playing on his mind. But it is. And maybe Otabek can see this on his face, because he kisses Yuri’s forehead as he passes him and says, "I'll read it,” with a sincere nod.

\--

 

 _Pilsetsky has been known to throw dagger-like glances in the direction of even the friendliest of rivals and was famously absent from the_ _Rostelecom Cup_ _after-party last year after he was beaten to the gold by Canadian megastar JJ Leroy. Although it was rumoured that Pilsetsky was unwell, the phrase ‘sore loser’ came to many minds at the time._

 

\--

Yuri pushes at Otabek’s knee with his foot from his place at the other end of the couch. "So?"

"So..?" Otabek places his phone down next to him and shrugs.

“Didn’t it annoy you?”

Otabek considers this for a while. “The writer doesn’t seem to be your biggest fan, that seems clear. Aside from that...”

Yuri almost growls in desperation. Otabek isn’t taking the bait; he rarely does, is always reasonable, always diplomatic. Yuri wants him to be riled up and pissed off, like he himself is right now, if just this once.

"They fucking hate me.” He crosses his arms, frustration bubbling underneath his skin. ‘How are we unlikely? We're-- we’re  _not_ unlikely. We make sense, don’t we?"

Otabek smiles at him. He looks a little like he wants to laugh. "Well, I think so," he agrees, but this isn’t enough for Yuri. He wants to be _sure_ they're wrong.

Yuri continues, “Good. Because we both-- we’re both skaters.” Most obvious fucking example ever, Yuri realises. Otabek definitely looks like he wants to laugh now.

“ _And_ we both-- we share the same _goals_ and we... We hate parties, we hate people...”

Otabek says, “I don’t hate people," and places a hand on top of Yuri’s foot, which is pushing even harder at his leg now; Yuri, channeling all of his anger into one pointed toe.

Yuri ignores him. Says, “We hate people. We’re _very likely_. Piece of shit article. And I’m a sore loser?! I was puking my guts out that night after Rostelecom. I’d bought a new fucking suit to wear to that party and everything. Remember?”

“I remember.” Otabek grins, moves Yuri’s foot into his lap and holds it still. “I also remember that I wanted to stay in the hotel room with you, but you told me to fuck off to the party.”

“It wasn’t worth you getting sick too,” Yuri replies. “And I didn’t _tell_ you to fuck off, I just suggested it, politely.”

Otabek laughs. “Maybe we do seem unlikely to some people. It’s not a bad thing that the press don’t have us pinned down, is it? I mean, I don't think they're even aware of our, uh, relationship. They don’t know anything about us at all really.”

Yuri bites at the inside of his cheek. “That’s only because we don’t force ourselves down everybody's throats on a daily basis.”  

(Like Victor and Yuuri do, he doesn’t add.)

Yuri knows that his boyfriend is right. That the article means nothing at all in the grand scheme of things. But Yuri can't help but thinks that it’s easier for him. He’s still enough of an enigma in the eyes of the media that he gets off lightly. He’s quiet and brooding and focused, but always a gentleman, apparently.

And then there’s the media’s eternal stroppy teenager Yuri Pilsetsky, the press apparently unable to grasp the fact that he's not in his teens any longer. The Yuri Pilsetsky who makes a show of himself in public. Who doesn’t do pleasantries, who scowls during interviews and has trouble acting civilised towards asshole paparazzi.

Yuri has wondered, sometimes, if Otabek _would_ be better off without him. He wonders it now, as he rolls off the couch and stomps off towards the kitchen, muttering obscenities under his breath as he goes.

\--

 

_“We find it difficult to believe that the mild mannered Altin doesn’t get tired of the tantrums sometimes!”_

 

\--

Yuri has been promising to go to bed earlier leading up to the competition, but it's after midnight when he finally strips down to his underwear and crawls under the covers. Otabek’s skin is warm as he presses a kiss to the back of Yuri’s neck, chest pressed close against his back. Yuri can tell that he’s almost asleep from the soft, shallow breaths on his neck and his lazy hands, that pull Yuri closer in the dark naturally.

Yuri wishes he could fall asleep so easily, but there’s still something playing on his mind.

“Beka?”

Otabek makes a soft noise in response.

Yuri feels immature and ridiculous, just like certain members of the press seem to think he is. “Beka, what if they’re right?”

“Hmm?”

“What if we’re not-- what if it isn't going to work?” He says. The words come out jumbled and thick and Yuri hates feeling like this, but he needs to say it. “What if we’re too much of an unlikely pair to be...  I mean, they don’t even think we’re suited as _friends,_ nevermind anything else _._ ”

“Yura?” Otabek’s hand finds his, and he slips his fingers in between Yuri’s effortlessly.

“Uhuh?”

“I love you. If you want me to write an anonymous comment on that article calling it out for being the complete bullshit that it is, I will.” Otabek squeezes his hand gently. “If that would help."

Yuri squeezes back. Says, "I've already written one."

"You know how I can tell we’re not unlikely at all?” Otabek asks, chuckles against Yuri’s shoulder. “Because that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have Yuri's & Otabek's comments on the article!
> 
>  
> 
>  _Meow2001_  
>  fuck this shit!!! wtf does prickly even mean?????
> 
>  
> 
>  _yuripilsetskyishot_  
>  I disagree with this take on Altin & Pilsetsky’s friendship. They seem very close. I think they like each other very much.


End file.
